Review By Brian Wilson,MusicWeb International,November 2010
Simon Mayr wrote ‘Mozart’ on his copy of the Missa Solemnis in C which opens this recording. It remains an open question whether he meant Leopold or Wolfgang Amadeus—another copy in Salzburg contains the name Wolfgang Amadeus, crossed out and replaced with his father’s name. Whichever Mozart we attribute it to—or even Brixi, Vogel or Vogler, who have all been candidates at one time or another—it’s a fine work.
Keith Anderson maintains a scholarly aloofness in his notes, merely noting that modern research supports the possible attribution to one or other Mozart. Having been trained in circumspection at the learned institution where Mr Anderson now teaches, I’m merely going to say that the music sounds to me worthy to have been written by Mozart fils—I’m even prepared to rate it higher than some of the short Masses which he composed in Salzburg. Naxos don’t claim it as a first recording, but I don’t recall ever hearing it before.
Mayr’s Te Deum is fully worthy to be heard in the same company. Again, there are some caveats about the theory that it was performed at Napoleon’s coronation as King of Italy—some have dated the work as late as the 1820s—but it certainly sounds good enough to have been written for such a grand occasion, and it provides a good reason to grace the front cover with an impressive portrait of Napoleon in his coronation robes.
It’s a jaunty work, at times reminiscent of secular opera rather than church music—listen to track 22, Te ergo quæsumus, where you might almost be listening to an ensemble passage from Figaro. The concluding section, In te Domine speravi (tr.23) dances us to a hope that we shall, indeed, never be confounded.
Naxos have been doing Simon Mayr proud in recent years and several of their releases have been made under the direction of Franz Hauk, as here—a busy man who acts as scholarly editor, chorus-master, conductor and keyboard player on the harpsichord or, this time, the organ. His version of Tobiæ Matrimonium, the Marriage of Tobias, was hailed by Glyn Pursglove as an outstanding bargain (8.570752/53 - see review) and by Robert Hugill as a delight, charmingly performed (see review).
An earlier recording, David in spelunca Engaddi, David in the cave of Engedi, earned equally high praise from Göran Forsling (8.570366/67 - see review). Hauk has also recorded Mayr’s dramatic cantata L’Armonia and the Cantata for the Death of Beethoven on 8.557958. I must catch up with those earlier releases—they are all available
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Review By George Chien ,Fanfare,November 2010
Our headnote reflects what you’ll see on the front of this release. The back shows the program order—the two works are reversed—and also bears a caveat: the dreaded four-letter word (abbreviation, actually) of musicology: “Attr.” “It is uncertain,” says the blurb, “whether the Missa solemnis in C was composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, or by his father, Leopold. Whatever the case, it was extremely popular during the 18th and 19th centuries.” Popular it may have been, but information about it is not easily found. It is listed under “Doubtful and spurious” in The Mozart Compendium, which also notes that its Benedictus is identical with a Salve Regina, K 92. Of the Salve Regina the Compendium simply says that it is “doubtful; identical with the Benedictus of Mass in C, K C1.20.” Not a lot of help there. In the online Mozart Forum Dennis Pajot sheds a little light, tracing the Mozart connection to an erroneously attributed copy of the score made by Simon Mayr in 1807. There seems to be no definitive information about the Mass’s origin or early performances, and doubts about the Mozart attribution surfaced quickly. Leopold did not list it in his catalog of Wolfgang’s early works. Pajot mentions not only Leopold Mozart, but also Franz Brixi (1732–71) and Cajetan Vogel (c1750–94) as other possiblities.
In a separate article Pajot cites speculation the Salve Regina might have been performed in Salzburg in 1768, but the Mozarts were in Vienna at the time, casting doubt on that hypothesis. He suggests that an unknown copyist may have extracted the Benedictus, the most attractive number in the Mass, as a commercial venture.
What of the Mass itself? Set in 16 separate numbers for four soloists, chorus, organ, and orchestra, it is typical of the prevailing style. It’s a thoroughly competent work and certainly would have been a noteworthy accomplishment for a 12-year-old. It’s understandable that 17th- and 18th-century audiences could have been attracted to it, despite the reservations of the connoisseurs.
Simon Mayr (1763–1845) was yet another once-forgotten composer who toiled in the shadow of the Viennese Classical immortals, whom he admired. Naxos has apparently taken an interest in his music, having previously issued a dramatic cantata, two oratorios, and a one-act opera, which nonetheless barely scratches the surface of an extensive body of work. Born in Bavaria, Mayr studied in Venice, settled in Bergamo, and subsequently became Italy’s most celebrated opera composer before Rossini’s emergence. He composed prolifically, writing mostly church music early and late in his career, but, in the middle, 68 operas that were mounted in Bergamo, Venice, Milan, and throughout Italy. According to Mayr’s biographer the Te Deum was composed for the 1805 coronation of Napoleon Bonaparte as King of Italy, but that, too, is subject to debate. Other sources suggest that it may have been written
